Unshakable
by ohmygodagiantrock
Summary: Young Seto is faced with the hope of his warmest dreams coming true. But when those dreams begin to rot, where does the fresh, burning emotion go? Where can it go, when his new father keeps pushing it back down inside him? Seto must choose to battle how he feels about his stepfather, or lose himself.
1. You Were Only In My Way

A/N: Hello everyone! I didn't expect to be back so soon with another piece.

This is more than a one-shot, but it won't be a fully drawn-out story, either. I'm aiming for four chapters. A lot of the background aspects were taken from the manga or from the Japanese anime, including the boys' ages. In the manga, when they were adopted Seto was ten and Mokuba was five.

We all know how Seto feels about Gozaburo Kaiba. But we were only given a cold sketch of his cruelty. How did it _feel_ to Seto, to be faced with it, day after day? One more side note: for those of you who don't know, Tousan, or Tou-san, is what Seto calls Gozaburo. It means father.

* * *

As expected, the house was huge. Enormous, really. Seto had never seen a building so large that people actually _lived_ in.

A low wall surrounded the lot, opening in the center with a gaudy metal gate. The building itself was only as tall as a normal house, but wider than four of them together. As he climbed out of the car that had taxied him to his new home, he puzzled over what one man could possibly do with so much space.

Mokuba followed him out of the vehicle and slung his backpack over his shoulders, then slipped his tiny hand into Seto's. Time melted away while the boys stood outside the building, getting their first real look at Kaiba Manor. Eventually a stout man placed his hand on Seto's shoulder and loudly cleared his throat. Seto wasn't sure where the man had come from, but he suppressed his laughter when he saw the man's toad-like face, which seemed all the more out of place given his professional dress. He led the boys up to the building and the wide french doors opened.

Inside the brothers were greeted by members of the house staff; two women in maid's dress and a man wearing a tuxedo. They each bowed in turn, one woman even smiling at them.

"These are the young children Master Kaiba has decided to adopt?" The woman asked.

Mokuba seemed to be suddenly transfixed by the woman, and offered a small smile back at her. Seto, however, ground his teeth.

"_Decided_?" he whispered. He could feel his face growing hot. Seto had been the one to make the challenge. He had created the stakes, and he had been the one to declare checkmate.

"Excuse me?" she asked curiously.

He opened his mouth to explain to the woman just who had_ decided_ that the boys would be coming to the lavish manor. The toad-man's hand returned to his shoulder and pushed. Seto's jaw snapped shut and he snarled against the force. He tried not to yank Mokuba's arm as he was roughly ushered forward, but he wouldn't let go of the boy's little hand.

While Seto sat at the dinner table, he made himself consciously remember the rules of etiquette the stout butler (whose name, he had learned, was Hobson) had taught him earlier. His eerie voice echoing in his memory was the only thing keeping Seto from shoveling the food into his mouth. His new guardian was talking, and he struggled to listen. The food that had been set before him was the best he'd ever tasted, and he was hungry.

"Your daily routine will be a strict schedule of schooling," Gozaburo said. "Social events will be planned well in advance, and will only be permitted if the event is deemed beneficial to your education and training." Seto nodded along with the recitation of rules. "Your days of taking it easy have ended, boy. There will be no 'playtime' set aside in your days."

Seto swallowed his bite of food and set down his utensil. He made himself dismiss the idea that this old fool seemed to think that living in the orphanage had been easy. There was a more important issue he had to address.

"When will I have time for Mokuba?" the boy asked. Mokuba looked up from his own plate of food at the mention of his name. The concept hadn't yet seemed to occur to him between bites.

Gozaburo laughed. Seto growled.

"What's funny?" he challenged.

Gozaburo's laughter suddenly evolved into a cough, or an indignant scoff; Seto wasn't quite sure. He decided that he felt insulted. The man sat up even taller in his chair and leveled his eyes on the ten-year-old.

"You can think what you want about how you got here, boy. But now you live in _my_ house, and you will live by _my_ rules. If you manage to finish your work quickly enough – and it is done _well_ – you may use the weekends as you please. But note, Seto, that this is by no means a given right. It is an earned privilege, and earn it you will."

"Fine. But what is Mokuba going to do all day? You can't expect a five-year-old to attend that many lessons every day."

"The child will be tended to by the staff. How he occupies himself is not my concern, as long as he does so quietly and without disrupting the household."

Seto pushed his plate away and glared hard at the old man.

"Mokuba is sitting at this table. You shouldn't talk about him like he's in another room."

"You will _not_ tell me what I cannot do in my home," Gozaburo said. His voice rumbled and his eyes narrowed. Seto tried to glare back, but a whimper from across the table stole his attention. Mokuba had shrunk low in his seat, and was staring down into his lap. The escalating argument had frightened him, giving Seto the means to be the one to end it. He bowed his head low, mumbled an apology, then stared only at his plate as he finished his meal. He ate using only one hand, the other held in a tight ball in his lap. His fingernails dug sharply into his palm, and he struggled not to let it show on his face.

* * *

Seto dragged himself away from the luxurious mattress and tugged on his clothes. The clock told him he'd managed a hearty six hours of sleep – more than he'd been able the past few nights – but it had seemed to last only minutes. He rubbed at his eyes on his way down to breakfast, trying not to drag his feet, lest Gozaburo see and discipline him.

After the quick meal he picked up his lessons again. His days seemed to be an endless cycle of studying, eating and coveting every precious moment of sleep. He would feel better about the monotony and fatigue if he had more time with Mokuba, but there didn't seem to be anything he could do about that. He worked his assignments as quickly as he could manage during the week, but it seemed as though no matter how hard he tried to free his weekends, the work always piled up. Seto didn't put it past Gozaburo to be working it that way on purpose.

The subject matter wasn't too difficult for Seto, and he was glad to be learning things that challenged him. Schooling at the orphanage had been designed to keep the other kids on track, but Seto hungered for more knowledge.

What he didn't like was the way his instructors carried out their lessons on him. A wrong answer lead to a hard slap across the knuckles with Hobson's ruler. Seto thought it was lucky that he seldom answered a question incorrectly, but that didn't seem to be enough to stop Hobson from hitting him anyway.

"Sit up straight!" _Whap_.

"Your penmanship is messy." _Whap._

"Chin up!" _Whap!_

"You dropped your pen!" _Whap!_

The discipline was rough enough that his knuckles had begun to scab over, making his penmanship even harder to perfect. But worse, the marks were hard to hide from Mokuba, whenever they did get to see each other. He had to use his hand to eat, and Mokuba's place was always set across the table from him. Seto had tried to have it arranged for them to sit beside each other so that Mokuba was further both from Gozaburo and from his own healing knuckles – the table was well long enough. But the kitchen staff had told him that Gozaburo had requested the seating arrangement, and Master Kaiba's orders would not be rewritten.

Well, that just figured, Seto thought and stalked out of the room. He hurried up a flight of steps and down the hall, back to his study. His new life had instilled a constant need to be on guard. He learned quickly that it was easy to find himself breaking rules, especially ones he hadn't been told about yet, so he scurried back to his books before Gozaburo or another member of the house staff caught him breaking another.

Seto laid his head down on his pillow, anxiety bubbling in his gut for the next day. He had retreated to his bedroom before finishing his work, knowing it wouldn't go well for him the next day. But how productive could a ten-year-old be when he couldn't keep his eyes open?

He could feel how quickly he had begun to drift into sleep, and he welcomed it. The heavy fog settled over him, but when he heard the door to his bedroom open, it lifted in a rush. Seto sat up immediately and prepared to leap out of bed and get back to his unfinished work. But instead of being greeted by his adoptive father's dark, burning rage, Mokuba scampered into the room and launched himself at Seto's midsection.

Seto let out a deep sigh of relief that sounded a little like laughter. Then his mind righted itself and he began pushing Mokuba away.

"What are you doing in here, kid?" He glanced at the clock. Hours had passed since the time the orphanage would have called "lights out". He tried to pull Mokuba off of him, but finally realized that the form clinging to him was trembling, and probably sobbing a little, too. He wouldn't answer Seto's beckons.

"Mokuba?" He tried again, more gently. "Hey buddy. Did you have a bad dream?" Mokuba's form stiffened, but he nodded silently into Seto's chest. He was hiccuping. Seto struggled to push him back again, and pulled his face up so he could see it.

Moonlight from the curtain Seto hadn't bothered to draw shut made wet streaks on the little boy's face glisten. Now that the brothers were mostly detached, Mokuba took it upon himself to climb under the covers of Seto's bed. Seto was instantly reminded of the nights at the orphanage when they had fallen asleep the same way.

Seto put a hand on the blankets to stop Mokuba from pulling them up on himself. The little boy turned his head toward Seto, his brows knitted together. He pulled a little harder, but Seto was clearly stronger.

"Mokuba, I'm sorry. But we can't do this. You have to go back to your room before someone catches you. You'll get in trouble."

"Don't care!" the five-year-old huffed. Seto's mind, ragged as it had been run, was still quick to think of another path.

"Would you care if I get in trouble for it?"

"Why you get in trouble?" Mokuba asked.

"Because..." Seto almost explained it to him, then remembered that he was dealing with a little boy, barely past the toddler stage, and he gave up. "Because Tousan isn't a nice man. He wouldn't like you in here." Seto remembered the first time it had been insisted upon him to call the man Tousan, and it felt weird. Mokuba wouldn't do it yet, instead choosing not to address the man by any name or title. Seto was weary of when – or rather, _how_ – the staff might try breaking him of that, so he decided to be an example instead.

Mokuba shook his head. "Not nice man," he muttered. "No trouble for Niisama. I have to go?"

"Yes, Mokuba. You have to leave. Now." He pushed the boy again and Mokuba was barely able to keep his footing as he was slid to the edge of the mattress and ushered off of it. He crossed his arms and put on his best pouting face, but it only lasted a couple of seconds before it twisted up and he started sobbing heavily.

"Shh, Mokuba!" Seto hissed. "Be quiet and go back to your room!"

"Fine," the boy said and stomped off, not at all trying to be quiet as he had agreed. When he was gone Seto still had to get up and shut the door. He collapsed back onto his bed, his body telling him it was too tired not to quit working, but his mind was suddenly awake. He had hurt Mokuba's feelings. The boy had gone away mad, surely mostly at Gozaburo, but some of it had to be directed at Seto, too.

That man was ruining everything. Every time Seto opened a textbook, he heard Gozaburo's voice telling him to work harder. Every time he put his pen to the paper and moved his hand he felt the sting of Hobson's ruler. Even when Seto thought he was doing everything right to please the man, he still found something to punish him for. Every time he felt the anger rising in his body, Hobson's ruler was there to smack it back down to the pit of his stomach, where it burned him from the inside like lava.

Gozaburo was like a brick wall, constructed directly across Seto's path. Too wide to get around, too tall to climb. Too strong to break. And everything Seto tried to do to force his way through only added another layer against him.

He pulled the blankets up to his chin and forced his eyes closed. It wasn't supposed to be like this.

He could try to study and train as long as he was able, sit up straight and speak respectfully, and even take his beatings without flinching. Nothing would be enough to please Gozaburo Kaiba. Against anything that Seto could be able to manage, the brick wall would remain.


	2. Carve Your Name Into Me

A/N: Wow, everyone, thanks for the favorites already! I really appreciate the quick feedback.

* * *

Seto's difficulty adjusting to his workload was no secret within the Kaiba household. He had collapsed onto the sofa in his study on several evenings, just to be reminded by Hobson that he wasn't finished with his lessons for the day. On one occasion, however, the butler had punctuated his reminder by returning a textbook to him, which he deposited on the low table. The book was placed in Seto's direct line of sight, surely on purpose, and he felt his insides begin to coil up. He squeezed his eyes shut and silently willed the book to disappear, knowing that if he simply left it in its place he would be reprimanded.

With a sigh so heavy he felt the hairs on his forehead shift, Seto hoisted himself up off the sofa where he'd been lying on his stomach. He reached for the book, but when it landed in his lap, cover open, Seto saw that he had been given a gift. Hobson had said the book was handed off from Mokuba, and now Seto knew why.

The child had returned Seto's Duel Monsters cards to him. Seto lifted the little pieces of cardboard out of the cut-out pages in the book, peeking quickly around the corner wall to make sure Hobson wasn't watching him. He sifted through them, smiling at each painted image on each weak monster card. His "deck" was pitiful and some of the cards were worn or damaged, but he'd collected whatever he was able to from the other boys at the orphanage, and he was proud of what he had.

Seto reached the end of the pile and found a little slip of paper behind the last card, and he gasped at what was drawn on it. Then, of course, he quickly covered his mouth and tried to cover the gesture with a fake yawn while hiding the cards back in the damaged book. He shuffled off to his room where he could look at Mokuba's artwork behind a closed door, and still pretend to be doing something productive.

Not many days later, Hobson had found the cards in Seto's room. While gripping Seto's small arm tightly in his hand, the butler presented them to Gozaburo. Seto forced himself not to struggle against the repulsive hand on his arm, knowing that pulling away would only yield him a worse punishment. He silently congratulated himself for hiding Mokuba's drawing of his dragon in a better place than where he'd tucked the cards. It hadn't been found.

"Master Kaiba, I am sorry to report that my charge has been slacking." Gozaburo set down his cup of tea and pushed aside the papers decorating his desk. He set his dark eyes on Seto's wriggling form. His stoic expression curdled into a stiff scowl. Seto tried to ignore Hobson's fingers around his bicep, and he matched Gozaburo's stare.

"Has he?" the old man scoffed. He finally glanced down at the trading cards in Hobson's hand. He plucked them up, fanned them out for a quick glance, then, in a wide sweep of his arm threw the cards back at Seto. The few that made contact bounced off and joined the rest scattered across the floor.

"Listen to me, boy. I told you that playtime is over." Gozaburo wasn't shouting, but his gravelly voice was raised above his usual tone. His eyes were what Seto found threatening. "If you wish to stay in this house you will follow my rules. If you cannot, you and that other brat will be sent right back to the orphanage. You can always commence with your games and stories there. Is that what you desire?"

Anyone else might have wavered at the question. Anyone else might have taken even one extra second to consider the concept. But not Seto. He was burning too hot to rationalize his choices, past or present. He jerked his arm roughly out of Hobson's grip, both fists clenched into tight little balls.

"No", Seto said. "I'm never going back there. But how my brother and I are treated here isn't fair."

Gozaburo stood up. At his full height he towered over the ten-year-old, but Seto kept his angry gaze strong.

"You think I have a mind to treat you _fairly_?" he challenged. "Certainly not! Life isn't fair, you little brat!"

"I know that. But-"

"But nothing," Gozaburo cut him off. "You are squandering your time on useless playthings. If you have all that time to spare-"

"If I had _any_ time to spare I would be spending it with him!" Seto shouted. "I wouldn't be in my room playing with toys ."

"Do not interrupt me when I am speaking, Seto." Gozaburo had lowered his voice down to a level that usually made Seto tense up even more than when he would shout. This time he ignored it and continued his head-on assault on his guardian. Not even the threat of Hobson, Gozaburo's weapon, was enough to cool him off. His heartbeat was pounding in his head.

He needed to speak. He needed to be _heard_. Hobson could punish him all he wanted later, if he got what he needed now.

"My brother is the reason I am here. You can do anything you want to me and I won't back down. We'll still find a way to be close to each other."

Gozaburo stared down at the little boy of ten, standing with grounded feet and a puffed up chest. His face was red and his fists were drawn up, like he was ready to start a fistfight.

Gozaburo laughed. The insulting bellows poured out, joined quickly by Hobson's. Seto stared at them both while they laughed. Then, the laughter died out. Gozaburo went back to staring Seto down. Seto couldn't help but notice that the man was standing on his cards.

"Since it seems as though you _do_ have extra time, you will no longer have the option of free weekends, and you will have one more lesson each day." He turned his attention to the butler. "Hobson, clean up this mess. Then remove all of the toys from Seto's room, including any recreational storybooks and his chess board."

Seto felt like his whole body would explode. So much energy and rage bubbled up inside him, and just when he'd begun to release it with the words he needed so badly to say, Gozaburo stopped up the stream. Like the cork on a bottle of champagne. Like bashing his head against a cold, brick wall, and expecting it to break. The energy had nowhere to go but inside him, to rot and putrefy his insides, until nothing clean was left.

* * *

Gozaburo never hit him. That fact didn't comfort Seto; it only let him know what to expect.

Gozaburo had been the one to hire Hobson, and to put him over Seto's discipline. The fact that Hobson enjoyed his job didn't escape Seto, nor did it surprise him to realize that Gozaburo had chosen the most effective person for the duty. Hobson did the hitting, but Tousan had ordered it to be done that way. At the end of it all, the old man's fists were still behind the blows.

The collar hurt. The _whap_s of the ruler still came, but they had stopped bothering him much. The healing wounds on the back of his hand were given by only taps compared to the pain of the electric shocks he received from the collar. He had begun with wondering what the importance of sitting up straight was, but after the third shock, the reason didn't matter anymore. All that remained was obedience, or whatever he had to do to lessen the pain.

He had to live with the collar on. He studied with it, of course, but he also ate, bathed and slept with it on. As if the punishment itself weren't enough, he had to be humiliated with the constant reminder. He had had the naivety to believe that living with a rich man would lead to a luxurious lifestyle, but despite the gourmet food and comfortable clothing, Seto still felt more lowly than a dog when the metal collar was strapped around his neck.

For the first time since the brothers had moved in to the Kaiba manor, Seto was thankful Mokuba was seeing less and less of him. He tried to hide his new accessory the best he could whenever they wound up in the same room together, but Seto knew that if it hadn't seen it yet it was inevitable that he would eventually anyway. Only Gozaburo knew how long Seto would be forced to wear the contraption.

The metal collar itself also chaffed. It rubbed roughly against the soft skin of his neck with his every movement, from his arm strokes while he studied, to the dipping of his shoulders while he walked, and even when he turned his head to cough.

The jolt of electricity shooting through his system brought him the worst pain. Each time Hobson pressed the button of the little remote control he kept always at hand, Seto was startled out of whatever he was doing so suddenly that his mind went blank. He dropped whatever he was holding, most commonly his writing utensil.

Once, he'd been caught slipping into a slouch at the dinner table, and the spoonful of soup he'd been about to put into his mouth slipped from his fingers, splashing broth and bits of chicken onto the lacy tablecloth, his lap, and eventually onto the carpet. Seto had been shocked enough times that he had begun to conceal his reactions, so Mokuba didn't hear him cry out at the pain. Perhaps, if Mokuba had known to look, he might have seen Seto grinding his teeth.

What angered him most was that he'd felt his shoulders slump and already remembered to readjust his pose. He was about to do so when the shock set in. How much over-the-top reinforcement did these people think he needed?

Seto immediately took to dabbing at his lap with his napkin, feeling both angered at the scene, and embarrassed that Mokuba was there to see it. The boy, now six, was staring at him, no doubt wondering why – even how – Niisama had just suddenly spilled a whole spoonful of soup all over himself.

Seto's face was growing hot. When Hobson retrieved the napkin from him and began cleaning up the mess for him, Seto had to clench one hand under the table. His breathing grew steadily deeper when Hobson began dabbing at the new yellow stain on the lower thigh of Seto's white slacks. He actually expected the butler to offer him a condescending smile and tuck a new napkin into his shirt, in case he spilled again.

"You ought to be more careful with your utensils, Young Master," Hobson said with a smirk. Seto growled.

Hobson took the soiled cloth away. He replaced it with a new napkin, but placed it on the table at Seto's right hand. Seto could feel Gozaburo's eyes on him as he unfolded it and placed it in his lap.

"What do you have to say for yourself, Seto?"

He made himself take control of his breathing. The napkin was already a wrinkled ball in his lap under the table. He swallowed once, then picked up his new spoon and dipped it in his bowl.

"I'm sorry, Tousan. It won't happen again." If the shocks had to keep coming, he had to get better control over his reflexes.

"Hobson, Seto seems to be developing a clumsy streak," Gozaburo said to his employee, though his eyes were still on Seto. "See to it that he works on this." Seto could see the smirk peeking out behind Gozaburo's sneer, but one glance at the butler said that Hobson wasn't even trying to hide his.

"Yes, Master Kaiba."

Seto, sitting up as straight as his back could manage, cautioned a glance at Mokuba, but turned his eyes back down to his soup when he saw that the boy was still staring at him. Seto's eyes darted to Gozaburo's face, and the boy burned.

He itched to throw down his new spoon and scream in the man's face, finally telling him aloud just what he thought about the collar, about the work he was forced to do, about everything all at once. He itched to send his bowl of hot soup flying against the wall behind him – or better still, to dump the hot liquid into _his_ lap and ask him how it felt.

But instead he sat still, back and shoulders perfectly straight, and sipped spoonful after spoonful of the wretched soup, being careful not to slurp. He knew at the end of it all that it would make no difference, even if he made Gozaburo hear him.

Because he knew that at the end of it all, no matter how loud he yelled or how hard he could hit back, the brick wall would still remain.


	3. I Only Wanted To Be Somebody

Seto's body and mind were growing accustomed to the lack of sleep. Two years under the same harsh schedule, which grew more harsh each passing week, was long enough to numb the disappointment. He hadn't wanted his life to turn out quite this way, but he still held on to hope. Seto could feel himself getting stronger, faster, smarter. He relished in his knew knowledge; he liked the education. But that didn't justify the means.

When more than five hours of sleep had begun to feel like abundance, Seto stopped trying to earn every minute in bed that he could. As long as he wasn't entirely exhausted from his bookwork he began keeping himself up a little later each night, or rising early if he mind needed the refreshment, to work on projects of his own. He didn't tell his stepfather, expecting that he wouldn't approve and take that time away from him, too.

Instead he decided that he would reveal his project when it was finished. He knew, when that time came, he could prove to Tousan that his time and his mind were worth more than the man put stock in.

The ideas would come to him usually while he was about to drift off to sleep, or during the few minutes he was allotted to shower. Seto began keeping a small notebook in his bedside drawer for just that reason, and would often find himself scribbling down notes and drawing schematics late at night. The mathematics and foreign languages and business concepts Seto was being taught in his daily lessons didn't draw him anymore, and his intellectual brain began churning out more exciting concepts.

He could change his stepfather's entire corporation with his idea. He could create something _good_ out of the empire thriving on war; he could create something good out of his years of mistreatment. The _Solid Vision_, as Seto called his project, would be revolutionary. For the first time since Seto had arrived at his new home, he let himself grow excited about something. He let his hope grow, and the happiness the prospects instilled in him were refreshing enough to fight the flames Gozaburo was constantly stoking.

He showed Mokuba first. He was pleased how excited the boy was, but an aching took place in his eyes. Seto noticed it while he flipped through the notebook to show the boy each page. Mokuba nodded along with Seto's explanations, but there was something he was holding back.

"Wow," Mokuba finally said. "There's a lot of work here. When did you find time to get this all done?" Mokuba asked.

There is was. Was he jealous? They hadn't seen much of each other in a while, and here Seto was, showing him what he did with his time. Showing him that he _had_ time to do something else instead. Seto closed the notebook again. He'd shown Mokuba enough to communicate his idea, and that he could really make it happen. He knew how the electronics of the machine needed to work. He just needed to build a prototype. For that, of course, he would need permission from _him_.

"I just scribbled stuff," Seto said, "whenever I had a minute or two. It's not finished yet. I still have work to do."

This seemed to placate Mokuba enough, until Seto stood up.

"Are you going? Already?" Seto sighed. Mokuba was eight now. He spoke more properly, used table manners, and had begun to call Gozaburo _Tousan_ as instructed. Seto knew he was being educated as well, but not nearly to the extent that he himself was. Gozaburo was taking full advantage of Seto's intellect, while his only goal with Mokuba was to keep him busy enough to keep him out of trouble, or at least out of the way. Unfortunately for the boy, that meant spending a lot of time being lonely.

"I'm sorry, kid. I have to. I probably shouldn't be in here anyway." Mokuba's bedroom was just a stop on the way to the library.

The downtrodden look on Mokuba's face when Seto gathered his books and reached the door made him stop. He knelt down and offered the boy a quick hug, and Mokuba dove into his arms.

He shouldn't be this eager to spend fifteen minutes alone with me, Seto thought.

As ever, he felt the black sewage beginning to burn in his gut again.

* * *

When Seto turned fourteen, he'd finished enough of his plans to present them to Tousan. He marched pointedly to Gozaburo's office with a folder in his hand. He moved with surety, no longer needing to consciously remember to hold his back straight. He had worn the collar for a year, but it was gone now. He was glad for its removal, which gave him more confidence and dignity as he knocked on Tousan's office door.

"What is it?" demanded the voice. Seto pushed the door open without waiting for an invitation – he'd learned that this was acceptable, especially when the man was already feeling impatient.

"Tousan," Seto greeted and bowed quickly. "I have something I wish for you to see." He didn't say that he's wanted to _show_ it to him, giving Tousan freedom to choose when he looked at Seto's papers.

"Bring it here then," he said, not looking up from a stack of papers. The phone at his desk had been ringing – Seto could hear it from down the hall – but it went unanswered. Seto stepped forward and placed the manilla folder on Tousan's desk.

"It's something I've been working on for a while, and I think you'll be pleased. I have finished my lessons today, of course," Seto said. Tousan didn't reply as his eyes scanned the page on his desk. Seto stood in the middle of the room waiting, but after nearly a minute he asked, "Shall I go?"

To his surprise, Tousan set down the papers in his hand and glanced at the folder. He picked it up and leafed through it, finding the plans for a virtual software program. It seemed complete, and from what the man could tell it looked like it would work. Tousan quirked an eyebrow while he flipped through the blueprints and pages of notes, seeming to Seto that he was actually somewhat interested in what he was looking at. Seto kept his mask of confidence in place, never allowing him to see that he might be hiding excitement beneath the surface.

"What are your intentions with these plans, Seto?" Gozaburo asked, without sounding bitter.

"I wish to use this software to create virtual games for everyone to play. This could become a staple; there's nothing else like it on the market today. I've made calculations, and this product could make Kaiba Corporation billions, expanding the company into entirely new industries." Seto spoke as if he'd spent hours memorizing his spiel. His spirits were soaring so high his hands were beginning to tremble. Gozaburo set the folder down.

"You've done your research, I see. I'm impressed with your presentation, at least. I will keep these notes. In the meantime, I'll speak to someone from the Research and Technology branch to test this plan's plausibility."

"You will?" Seto's grin was hard to hide now. Gozaburo didn't appear to be nearly as excited. He plucked the paper he'd been previously reviewing back off his desk.

"That will be all, Seto. You may leave."

Seto bowed again and left the office. When the door closed behind him and Seto confirmed that the section of hallway was deserted, he awarded himself a silent fist-pump.

Finally, something good was going to happen in his life.

* * *

Seto stomped into Tousan's office without knocking. He knew consequences would result, just like with every other action he took, but he was too angry to care.

"You need something from me?" Tousan scoffed. Seto stood firmly on the opposite side of the desk.

"Yes, sir. I want to talk to you about the Virtual System I created."

"If that's what you want, I have nothing to say to you. I'm busy, Seto, so please leave."

Even though Seto knew well that it wasn't a request, his steel resolve kept him grounded in place. He clenched his fists and dove into the speech he'd been reciting in his head all day.

"I invented that system so everyone could enjoy games. But you want to use it for war."

Gozaburo narrowed his eyes at his adopted son. "I said get out. Didn't you hear me?"

Seto pressed on anyway. He was burning inside, and nothing could make him back down now. It wasn't a question of obedience, but of morals, and Seto had to speak his piece.

"The system is not a war tool! I invented it for people to use in the future Kaiba Land!"

Tousan stood suddenly. Seto's eyes went wide as the papers he'd so carefully organized were hurled back at his face. His quick reflexes let him block quickly with his forearm, but reflexes couldn't protect him from the man's anger directly.

"What Kaiba Land?" Tousan shouted. "It's all nonsense! Whoever inherits Kaiba Corporation must learn to create things that are of great use to mankind around the world. I myself must dominate the world with my military business. I want to use the virtual system you developed to reproduce the territory of the world."

Seto felt his face growing hot. He could hardly believe he'd let himself trust the man with his project. This was _his_ invention, a work of his own mind and hands, but he'd handed it over to _him_ so trustingly. Seto had heard rumors of what Tousan – no, _Gozaburo_; Seto silently vowed to never call that man "Father" again – planned to do, but hearing it with his own ears was more painful than he'd expected. Having his confrontation thwarted was even worse.

"But you're wrong!" Seto shouted, just before two men, each nearly twice the teenager's height, stepped up behind him and grabbed hold of Seto's arms. Together the security team lifted Seto so his feet dangled above the floor.

"Let me go! Let me _go_! I'm not finished yet!" he called out, struggling against the strong men as they carried him out of the office. When they finally set him down in the hallway, he tried to get back into the old man's office, but the doors were locked.

Once the sting of his disappointment, and Hobson's ruler, had died down, Seto sat before the fireplace in his study and brooded. His original notes and plans were still secured in the notebook he'd taken to storing beneath his mattress, so his work was safe. This comforted him a little, but didn't take away the greater pain.

Gozaburo had a copy of those notes, and now that he held all the pieces he could do whatever he wanted with them. He was fully capable of utilizing the virtual software as a tool for war, and in all likelihood, that was going to happen. Seto had created technology that would be twisted and used to aide in _kill__ing_ people. As if that wasn't enough, it was Gozaburo who would profit. His stomach churned; the very idea was making him sick.

He'd even told that wretched man about Kaiba Land, and it had been shot down just as quickly. That dream was his own, born in his mind before he'd ever met Gozaburo Kaiba. Was there nothing Seto was allowed to have, all his own?

He could wait and try to move ahead with his plans when he was no longer under his thumb, but... when would that be? Seto knew he needed Kaiba Corporation's resources to carry out his plans. If he abandoned those dreams, he could take Mokuba and leave, but Gozaburo had security like the guard in his office everywhere. Would he let the boys go? And even if they made it off the property, far enough away that they were safe, where would they go?

Seto knew he wouldn't take Mokuba back to the orphanage. Even if Mokuba didn't mind it much, Seto hated the place enough for both of them. The chances of them both finding a family together had been slim enough before, but with "runaway" stamped on their reputations they'd have no chance. Seto couldn't be sure which place was worse, but at least at the Manor he had some kind of future ahead of him, and resources he could benefit from in the meantime.

The only option left that Seto could see was to comply; to become the heir Gozaburo wanted of him. And that, he knew, would completely break him. The teenager ground his teeth together, trying to come up with another plan. But with the few cards he held in his hands, it began to seem like Seto would be stuck with Gozaburo Kaiba, living with his tyranny, hiding his scars, and turning his talents into weapons to fight wars he didn't agree with, forever.

He might as well have dumped his notebook in the fireplace and watched his dreams burn. But as he clutched the messy notebook to his chest, he realized that fire couldn't burn down the brick wall in his way. He'd only be hurting himself, and in the end, the brick wall would still remain.


	4. Now You Turn The Tide On Me

Seto stalked down the hall with clear intention, flanked by a handful of corporate higher-ups. He cringed when he saw little Mokuba, eleven now, sitting by himself in a corner chair. He was staring out the window to the ground many stories below. The boy looked up as Seto passed and gave his brother his best Kaiba sneer.

Seto returned a scowl – not too dark, nor too transparent; calculated. He'd seen the boy by Gozaburo's side countless times in the past days, standing at the man's heels like a pet, and each time it sickened him. The simple fact that Mokuba now opted to spend more time at Gozaburo's offices instead of home at the Manor was a clear indication that his bitterness toward Seto hadn't worn off.

Seto quickly felt the guilt for scowling back. He had been mean to the child. They hadn't spoken since Seto had shoved him down and accused him of leaking his secrets to Gozaburo. Seto's jaw clenched when he noticed that Mokuba was dressed in business attire, something Gozaburo had been pressing him to make a habit of. Seto needed Mokuba to trust him. It was time to drop the act.

After Gozaburo had denied them time together for six _years_, he decided to sweep in and take Mokuba for himself? Unacceptable. After six years of pain and humiliation, Seto was determined to show Gozaburo that there was something he could do right.

He made his face neutral again before he was out of Mokuba's view. He stopped walking once he reached his destination, some ten feet past where the boy was perched. Seto made eye contact with him once more before slipping into Gozaburo's corporate conference hall for his private announcement.

Seto seated himself across the long table from his stepfather. The five men had filed in behind him and closed the door. Seto kept his voice raised – partly for dramatics, and partly hoping that Mokuba might overhear the exchange.

"One year has passed since the day we made our deal. To celebrate, I hold this conference."

"You're wasting our time, Seto," Gozaburo smirked, having no trouble seeing through Seto's pleasantries. "Although you want to turn against me, you only have forty-nine percent of the stocks. I have fifty-one percent. I won't give out the title."

The man's mood turned foul as suddenly as someone might have flipped a switch. He rose to his feet and slammed both hands down on the table. Seto reminded himself that he still held cards up his sleeve, but he struggled to keep his calm composure once Gozaburo began dealing out his punishments to the traitorous.

Seto couldn't deny his nervousness over his own fate, if Mokuba didn't step in.

"Now I announce that the Kaiba enterprise is going to apply for an insolvency and transfer all business to the subsidiary, so your stocks will all become wallpapers. You will mortgage your life to me!"

While Gozaburo shouted at him and the employees at his back, Seto tried to listen for the sounds of movement he thought he heard from outside the room. In his mind, Seto was grinning, although he fought hard not to let a trace of it show.

Behind him the door opened suddenly, and Mokuba defiantly stepped into the private meeting and leveled his worst glare at Gozaburo.

"Wait!" the boy shouted.

"Mokuba..." Seto called quietly. He hoped his brother could hear the fondness in his tone.

"I want to give my 2% to Niisama," he declared, stepping up beside Seto. Gozaburo faltered.

"That's impossible. He's the one who abandoned you!"

"That was an impulsive decision. I'm on my brother's side." Seto let out a breath, relieved beyond grasp to hear those words. He finally allowed himself a real smile, for the first time in a long, long while.

"Now the situation turns against _you,_" Seto said coldly, but with great pleasure.

* * *

"I don't get it, Niisama. Why are we building the tower way out there?" Mokuba asked. He was pouring over the blueprints covering Seto's office desk. Alongside it was a map pinpointing the coordinates in the ocean where Alcatraz island appeared.

Seto was well pleased with the tower's design. It's jagged edges were like sharp barbs on the tip of an arrow, grounded in the destruction of the past and pointed proudly toward the sky. It was _perfect_.

"Because, Mokuba," Seto began, "it's the only place suitable. It's symbolic in our lives. Besides, we blew up the weapons laboratory already. Instead of letting that pile of rubble sit and hope it gets displaced by a tsunami someday, why not make some real use out of it?"

He shrugged. "I guess the money has already been spent making the island. Might as well make it into something that serves a purpose."

"That's the idea." Seto scowled. The details of his tournament were coming together smoothly, but something in his gut just didn't feel right. The tournament would begin soon, and he was closer than ever to finally defeating Yugi and reclaiming his lost title. But part of him wondered if it would be enough for him.

Seto imagined his victory over his rival – he even had a powerful strategy worked out to use against him – but once the games were over, he wondered what he would be left with. He would have the title, of course, and the resurrection of his pride was surely an important prize. But something tugged at his mind, telling him that even in the moment of victory, the uphill battle he'd been fighting his whole life might not end. The thought left him with a sinking feeling, and he tried to replace it with his enthusiasm for the duels he would fight.

He had to do something more with this tournament. A public affair was no place to drag out his past for anyone to see – most especially his rival – but there had to be something he could do during Battle City to give himself closure over his past, and allow himself to begin a new chapter.

* * *

"Kaiba. It's true... I won and you lost. But we have no difference in skill," Yugi shouted from across the arena. At first he'd seemed to be gloating, but with the added pity Seto's rival ground salt into the wound.

It wasn't a fresh wound. Not at all. It had been scabbed over and ripped open over and over. Yugi wasn't even the first to inflict that particular wound. _That_ was Gozaburo. Gozaburo Kaiba had been the first to truly defeat Seto.

"I recognize your skills as a duelist," his rival went on. "But let me tell you this. What you lost to was the monster called hatred that dwells inside you."

Anger was the strongest emotion Seto knew. He didn't have use for sympathy or pity. Even happiness seemed to be blinding and, usually, fleeting at best anyway. He told himself over the years that it wasn't something he needed. Mokuba could be happy for both of them, and Seto would keep them both safe and strong. Utilizing his anger had helped him succeed.

Yugi had tried to shatter that perception during their duel. He'd said that anger was what held him back, but Seto had always believed that it propelled him forward. He used that feeling of fire in his chest. Yugi's attempt to douse those flames only fueled them during their battle, but once it was over Seto felt differently.

In his victory, Yugi had proven himself right. Seto couldn't win on anger alone, and that was why he had lost. Yugi had said they had no difference in skill. While Seto wasn't willing to buy that line, his mind still churned on it.

The speaker on his lapel chimed, an employee announcing that the detonator had been set. A mechanical female voice announced the start of the countdown over a loudspeaker. The island Gozaburo had created for weapon manufacture was set to explode. Seto had decided to put the explosives in place to go off whether he won or lost the tournament, but his expectations for the outcome had had him imagining a different scene – more like celebratory fireworks than the tantrum of a sore loser.

The remainder of the games were not finished, but Seto no longer cared. When the island blew, he and Mokuba would already be in the sky. He could watch the fire and waves from above, and hoped that the reaction would be enough to satisfy all of the times he'd needed to explode, but never could.

But the words of the others rang in his ears. Yugi had him questioning, and Isis had him sympathizing. Mokuba, the one person whose opinion carried weight, had him reeling. Mokuba didn't want him to forget everything. Mokuba didn't want him to bury his pain under scars and hatred.

Gozaburo had carved his name into Seto's memories and set them on fire, all so he could follow him through even death. The only thing Seto had carried to justify his upbringing was the strength he gained. Now Mokuba wanted him to throw it away. The concept itself, especially so soon after losing again to Yugi, sent heat bubbling through his veins.

He ground his teeth, facing away from his little brother. As always, he wanted to shield the boy from what he was really feeling; from what he was trying to endure. He struggled with the decision Mokuba had presented him with, but the most difficult part was to acknowledge that it existed.

He didn't want to accept that abandoning his anger was even an option. To let go of the hatred, to stop being angry at the man, only left him with one thing: forgiveness. Seto didn't know if he was ready to do that... but he knew one way to figure it out.

He marched back into the lift, steeling himself for what he'd decided to do. If he could help Yugi have a chance against his foe, perhaps his rival could show him one more time if he had really been right. If Yugi, with his way of thinking and fighting, could beat a god card with such impossible odds, then Seto could see it worth considering. The battle would be one well worth watching.

As he rode back up to the sky arena, even with Mokuba beside him, he felt a surge of child-like excitement. Gozaburo's voice sounded in his head, drilling into him that he needed to crush his enemies, but he was on his way to help Yugi instead. The act of defiance took the edge off of the choice he had to make.

* * *

Yugi seemed surprised to see Seto return to the apex of the tower. He stepped out of the lift and close enough to the arena to throw a card, Devil's Sanctuary, at his rival. The card was one-of-a-kind, and Seto knew Yugi couldn't win without it.

Then again, should he even care? Perhaps that was the answer he'd come back to find.

"Yugi, take this card!" Seto shouted. He'd said so few words, but the shocked expression on Yugi's face told him his actions had spoken loudly enough.

"Kaiba," Yugi grinned when he slipped the new card into his deck, "I'll believe in you. And I _will_ defeat Marik."

Seto heard Isis step out of the lift behind him. He lowered his voice and spoke to her.

"Well Isis, I lent him a hand just as you wished. But all this will prove is that miracles don't happen."

Isis didn't reply directly. Seto stood back to watch the duel begin. He knew what he'd said aloud, and he knew he believed his stance on the matter. What he wasn't so sure of, however, was whether the duel's outcome would reveal that Seto believed in truth, or a form of his own delusion.

"_Kaiba, hatred is a dead end. What you lost to was the monster called hatred that dwells inside you."_ Yugi's words continued to ring in his mind as the game began. He had to see if Yugi could prove himself right twice.

* * *

The view from Kaiba Corp's fighter jet was breathtaking. The timing had been close, but Seto had maneuvered the craft well, so that he and Mokuba narrowly escaped the explosion. From a distance, Seto was able to watch and appreciate as large pieces of shattered concrete and twisted metal burst into the sky. Flames engulfed what little was left to burn, and a billow of smoke saturated the sky. As waves began to form and crash, the very island itself started sinking into the ocean.

Seto watched with hungry eyes as the monument began to disappear. After a final exchange with the rest of the crowd on the airship over radio, Seto's fighter jet stole into the sky. The thick black smoke pouring from what was left of the man-made island was all that could be seen from the distance. Once the last of the rubble sank, Seto knew, the flames would be doused for good as he turned the page to a new chapter, for himself and for Mokuba.

And finally, the brick wall came crumbling down.

* * *

A/N: This piece has been a game of connect-the-dots. I wanted to see in greater detail how the sweet little ten-year-old who loves his little brother and wants to share games with the world turned into a cold, apathetic man who has never really been seen getting excited about his childhood ambitions as an adult(/teen), even though he still carries them out. I wanted to see why he'd allowed himself to become someone so akin to a man he clearly hates. I think this answered a lot of my questions.

I hope the transitions between familiar and established happenings seemed logical and meaningful. I tried very hard to get my facts straight, but some of this still had to rely on speculation. I did skip a lot of scenes that we should all know well enough, because those weren't the parts I was trying to focus on. I also found myself struggling a little to put together scenes I'd taken from the Japanese anime, which appeared mainly in this chapter and the last. While I don't speak Japanese, I had to go with the sketchy subtitles since the English wound up being vague and unhelpful as usual. Because of that I pieced some of the dialogue together and moved it around until it made sense, which would be why any of those scenes might not have dialogue matching what you might remember from the 4kids.

Thank you all so much for being with me through another story! This was a short one, but it was important for me, and maybe a little personal, too. As always, I appreciate the support! Thank you for everything,

~ohmygodagiantrock


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